Remembering Jimmy
by pappy yokum's moonbeam
Summary: People's grief over Jimmy.


**(a/n) So I know I'm already working on two other stories, but I've been thinking a lot recently of a friend I lost back in January, and this idea came into my head and won't get out, so I need to write it. First is Weaver. **

I held Jimmy's picture in my hand, watching my tears fall into my lap. To say Jimmy had died too young was an understatement; he had been younger than my own daughter. He had been like a son to me. I had cared about him; he was the first soldier I'd met whose death impacted my life in such a major way.

_I heard gunfire and a terrified scream_ – Skitter! – _as I was running down the halls of that school._ _I recognized Jimmy's voice immediately and my heart clenched in fear as I realized he was in danger._

Maybe because he wasn't actually a soldier at all. He was a boy, I knew that – had always known it – thrust into a situation that nobody should ever be in. He was a kid, barely a teenager when he died.

"_You're okay, son."_

I almost wish I had kept the compass; it held so much more of him than this lousy picture, and Genie had left with it. That idea brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. So much was gone from my life; so much that could never be replaced or brought back. I had never really gotten the chance to say I cared, and I had cared so much.

_I awkwardly returned his very wet hug. I wasn't a hugger by any means, but even as I tried to keep my emotional distance, I could feel the carefully built wall around my heart begin to crumble_. _Even my heart itself was cracking because of his frightened tears; it reminded me of all the times I had to soothe one of my children after a nightmare. Of course, this was much worse than a nightmare, but we could pretend for now that it had been a bad dream, and that everything was okay. _

"Weaver, we gotta move. There's a group of skitters right behind us, and they're coming in fast." The voice was Tom's, and he sounded urgent. I got up, wiping the tears away.

"Alright, you get those citizens outa here and we'll keep the fighters back here to defend our supplies. We can't afford to lose anything else." My voice sounded overly gruff, but it didn't matter. As long as he didn't know I was crying, that was ok.

"_You're okay now."_

We couldn't protect our children anymore, even if they weren't actually ours. Scratch that, especially if they weren't actually ours. They were young, they were kids, still technically the future of a world, but a hardened future. A future molded by events out of their control, then hardened by the heat of war. Kids? Maybe in age, but no. Not children. Too close to hell, too far from innocent. They made their own decisions now, dangerous ones maybe, but we couldn't protect them from the consequences of their own actions.

_I turned around and slammed my fist into the metal of the locker behind me as Tom angrily threw everything to the ground from the table. I yelled and punched the cold metal again. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil going on inside me right now. I knew Tom would be more concerned about Ben than anything, but not me. I was terrified for Jimmy. If anything, I was angry at Ben. I was angry at both of them – they knew better – but Ben wasn't the one in there dying. It was easier to be angry at Ben._

"_We can't protect them anymore," Tom had said. An icy hand gripped my heart as I realized he was right._

I couldn't even know for sure if Jimmy would have wanted me to carry on or not, but I knew I had to for him. I remember Ben saying that the only way we could win this was by killing every skitter we saw, and that was fine by me. I hated those things for what they did to my daughter and to Jimmy. If they all had to die, I would participate in that.

"_You're alright son."_

Whatever Jimmy would want for us, it didn't matter now. Now, wherever he was, he could be a kid. That same teenage kid that probably focused on fun and girls before all this happened. He was okay now, and even if that left us hurting beyond belief, that was all that mattered.

**(a/n) So it was pretty short. But yea. It works. I think so anyway.**


End file.
